everything just feels wrong. i'm calling the same family. i'm flying into the same airport. i'm staying with the same people. it's all the same motions. except, this time, i'm not going to the valley. i'm not going to stay with my uncle. we're not going to swim in his pool and he's not going to give me advice that makes me feel simultaneously annoyed and loved. and i'm not going to get to appreciate him the way i should have been doing all this time.
i'll fly in with my brother and i'll finally get to introduce him to the country where we are from and the family that always asks about him. he's never been before. we'll get in late, and go to bed. we'll wake up and go to the hospital. we'll see our uncle. i was warned by cousins to brace myself. but my dad says to stay positive. he says to tell my uncle that there's hope and to be patient. he admits to me that this is a little lie. he says to tell my uncle (his brother) that he'll be down soon. as soon as he gets his passport. he says we must give him hope, even if there is none. even if his eyes are closed, my dad says, i should stay positive, and give him hope.
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